Over the holidays, my muse called out to me, and I was inspired to start focusing on fiction again. So now I'm working on a paranormal romance (about 42,000 words in), and I anticipate having it finished by the end of next month. 

It's been a long time since I've been excited about working on a book so I hope this means I can continue writing for a while at least. Everything seems positive as I have a lot of ideas coming to mind, and I've been pulling up unfinished manuscripts that I haven't worked on it a couple of years. 

As much as I enjoy writing essays and articles, I LOVE writing books. I'm not certain whether I'll indie-publish this book or submit to traditional publishers, but I'm just happy to have words on a screen in book form again! It's a great start to the new year for me! 

Those of you who've been following this blog for a while know that I write every day whether it's a blog post, a page on my latest work-in-progress, an essay, or a post for Red Shirts Always Die. It's a goal I set for myself way back in 2012, and nine years in, I'm still writing every day. But what I write has changed so drastically.

When I set that goal, I was focusing on fiction mainly. Now, I don't write as much fiction as I do non-fiction, although I do keep a work-in-progress at all times. I try to write at least two different things a night like a few pages on a manuscript and a blog post. That doesn't always work out which is why I haven't updated this blog since December 7th. Ugh. 

I'm working on a schedule that will help me get things back in order. So hopefully, this blog won't be in dry dock for much longer! 

On a side note, I rewatched some of Dawson's Creek last night. It's been so long that I've forgotten most of the series, but Joshua Jackson has just gotten better looking with age! 

'm sure if you've been following me a while you've noticed that I'm bouncing around a lot with the things I write, especially in the past two years or so. Once upon a time, I focused solely on writing fiction, but I reached a point where I was having to force the words, and I wasn't enjoying it anymore. Writing was a chore.
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Enter articles. I could write several of these a week and still my goal of writing every day. Along with those, I began to write essays and short stories, and I got more involved with writing posts about television and movies for sites like Movie Pilot (now defunct), Hidden Remote, and now Red Shirts Always Die. It was refreshing not to have to worry about plot holes and characterization. 

Recently, my first fiction novella in 2 1/2 years released, and I'm working on a second one now. I'm back in the groove of fiction writing, but I don't know when I'll return to full-length novels. Right now, I'm enjoying writing various things, and I don't have to force any of the words. Writers write, and that's what I'm doing. 

I wrote all of this to say, if you're a writer, write whatever you feel like writing. Don't push yourself to write what just isn't in you. I did that for too long, and I almost stepped away from writing altogether. I'm glad, instead, I decided to spread the words I write out over a multitude of avenues. 

In this week's news....actually, some of it is last week's news as well! ​

Many news things are in store for my site so keep checking back! I think you'll like the changes! 

Every writer struggles with something. It can be deadlines, time to write, or the dreaded writer's block. These successful writers offer valuable lessons we all can use! Go forth and read! You'll be glad you did! 

​“Hey, who’s that?” Amy captures my attention with a nudge.
I follow her line of sight to the house sitting on the corner, only a few steps from mine. With its sagging screen door and cracked, concrete steps, it doesn’t look much better than the one I call home.
A teenage boy crosses the brown grass, a bookbag slung over one shoulder. He climbs behind the wheel of a truck that’s blue and rust. Through the cracked glass window behind his head, I see brown curls and broad shoulders.
“Well?” Amy prompts me with another poke of her finger to my shoulder.
I shrug. “Don’t know. Never seen him before.”
“You’ve got to get your nose out of a book, Bailey. I mean, seriously, a hot guy moves in practically across the street from you, and you don’t even notice?”
“He probably won’t be here long. This isn’t exactly a buy and stay type of neighborhood. I still can’t believe your parents let you walk with me.”
Amy and I met in history class five years ago, just as things were starting to get especially nasty between my mom and dad. Her friendship had saved me, and now, every morning, her dad drops her off at the corner of my street so we can walk to school together.
The engine on the dilapidated truck coughs and sputters, and I can see my new neighbor patting the dashboard like he’s offering encouragement. After several fits of shaking and rattling, the truck settles into an asthmatic rhythm. Then the muffler belches a plume of smoke that has me and Amy waving the air in front of our faces.
“Geesh! Get that muffler fixed!” I yell before I think, which is usually how I end up getting in trouble when my mom’s sober.
Back-up lights illuminate, and the truck rolls out of the driveway. The driver glances over his shoulder, sees me and Amy, and stares for a second longer than necessary before shifting the truck into whatever gear it would accept. After a few weak attempts, it finally lunges down road.
“Well.” Amy stops and puts her finger underneath her nose. “He’s definitely someone we should get to know.”
I stare at her like her hair’s on fire. “What? Why? Because he’s cute?” I couldn’t see that much of him except for a strong jawline and the hair. So any assumptions I made about his looks were simply speculation.
Amy grins. “I was going to say because he has a truck, but whatever.”
“That’s not a truck; it’s an accident waiting to happen. And your dad drives a Jaguar. Why do you care about some guy you don’t know driving a beat-up old tank?”
“We do get rain here, remember? Who knows? He might be willing to give us a ride to school.”
“Again, your dad drives a Jag. Wouldn’t you rather show up at school in that?”
Her perfect eyebrows crease. “Ride to school with my dad? What have you been smoking?”
We dissolve into giggles and continue our trek to school, arriving five minutes after the bell rings which still keeps us out of the mandatory parent-notification zone. Not that my mom would answer the phone anyway. 

I saw this blog question on a challenge list, and it really made me stop and think. Once upon a time, I had a full-time career as a paralegal, and writing was a creative outlet for me. I didn't get published until I was almost thirty-five. I enjoyed writing, but it wasn't a necessity to me. All that changed after publication and the book reviews started coming in followed by even more contracts.  Then I got excited because I loved to write and realized I could do this for more than just the thrill of writing. 

Now, if I couldn't write for whatever reason, I would have to find another way to express what I can say with written words. I don't know what that would be, possibly doing more public speaking. But it wouldn't erase my desire to write. 

Honestly, i can't imagine not writing, but if I had no choice, I would adapt and find another way to love what I do which would undoubtedly be something just as creative. I don't see myself ever returning to the full-time grind of being a paralegal. I enjoy being my own boss too much.  As I'm already the editor-in-chief of Vinspire Publishing, I imagine I would throw myself even more into helping writers achieve their dreams. 

I'll admit that this question scares me because I don't want to imagine not writing. Even writing a blog post like this one fills a need in me, and I wonder if I would feel the same if I couldn't write.